


"you're the only one for me"

by mzyz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bittersweet, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, mattsun and makki roasting tooru but what else is new
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22994974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mzyz/pseuds/mzyz
Summary: an afternoon in the life of hanamaki and matsukawa(or: locker room make-out sessions, dinner at the matsukawa household, and takahiro's ultra sappy feelings for his boyfriend)
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Comments: 4
Kudos: 137





	"you're the only one for me"

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first time i've ever written matsuhana despite my intense love for them but last night i just loved them a little too much n needed to write some gross fluff 
> 
> enjoy this self indulgent piece :-)
> 
> ps: u can pry bottom!makki from my cold, dead hands

Issei’s lips taste like the onigiri with soy sauce they had for lunch, pressed up against Takahiro’s. Takahiro has to laugh, chuckling against Issei’s mouth, causing both of their lips to vibrate.

“What?” Issei asks, pulling away from the kiss, thick eyebrows furrowing up in the cutest way possible.

“Nothing,” Takahiro tells him, humming softly. “You kiss so well, Mattsun. You sure you’re not cheating on me to practice with someone else?”

“Nope,” Issei replies, placing a long, sloppily wet kiss to Takahiro’s temple, sending said boy into a series of half-disgusted, half-delighted squeals, pushing the other away. “Just you and my pillow.”

They’re pressed up against the lockers in the changing room, Takahiro’s t-shirt riding up on him, leaving his back and side exposed to the cool metal Issei is mashing him against.

“We better get our asses to practice or Tooru’ll yell at us,” Takahiro tells Issei but it falls on deaf ears because Issei just replies by kissing him back. Neither move. He loves Issei’s tongue, flitting around inside Takahiro’s mouth, and the way it always knows exactly what to do. He never fails to make Takahiro feel good, one of the many reasons why Takahiro loves his boyfriend.

“So?” Issei asks.

“Mmm,” Takahiro can only groan out, clumsily clawing his fingers over Issei’s warm back, hands underneath Issei’s blue t-shirt. “Don’t stop,” he whines out, voice thin and petulant. Issei hooks his leg around Takahiro’s and Takahiro laughs again.

“You gotta stop laughing, Taka,” Issei tells him, no bite behind the words, just unadulterated fondness. “Makes me feel like I’m doing it all wrong.”

“You’re not,” Takahiro reassures him, like a promise. “Always laugh when I’m with you. It’s a good thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Issei, then, chuckles at that. _I want to hear that sound forever_ , thinks Takahiro with a hazy mind. Issei will always be Takahiro’s weakness.

He remembers the first time he laid eyes on his future boyfriend, all the way back in first year. He was quiet. Takahiro, now, can’t even imagine Issei being quiet like he was back then. He seemed to always be keeping to himself. It wasn’t until almost two and a half months after school started he got to know the real Matsukawa Issei (the Matskawa Issei he loves, the lazy bastard who loved hamburg steak and gross memes on Twitter).

Takahiro had made a joke when they were cleaning up the gym at the end of afternoon practice, something dumb. Probably a sex joke or a your mom joke or a sexy your mom joke (did Takahiro joke about anything else? Never). And Issei had snorted under his breath. The rest was history; Takahiro made it his mission to hear that sound every day. He never wanted to stop making Issei laugh, from that day on. And, so far, there wasn’t a single day of failure. Everyday was okay if he could make Issei laugh, at least once.

“Oi!” Iwaizumi’s voice rang out in the locker room, echoing off the hollow walls. It was loud and angry and Takahiro bit back a wheezy laugh, knowing it would only make their vice-captain angrier. “You two better stop swapping spit and start sprinting. Now!”

Issei and Takahiro didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed anymore, just sauntered out of the locker room with easy-going, lewd smiles plastered to their faces. No one bothered questioning it.

* * *

Practice was long and strenuous but the one saving grace was seeing a sweaty Issei lift the hem of his shirt up to wipe his forehead, exposing those gloriously toned abs of his. It was probably only a saving grace for Takahiro, though, whose entire life revolved around Seijoh’s third year middle blocker.

By the time it was over, Takahiro felt a dull ache in his muscles, a consequence of endless spike-receive practice and way too many suicide sprints than should legally be allowed to be administered (Coach was a sadist when he wanted to be).

“You coming over tonight?” Issei asks in the convenience store, waiting for Oikawa to decide what he wants. “Mom’s making dinner.”

“Sure,” Takahiro replies, immediately, not even having to think about it. With three siblings, he’d hardly be missed and he liked it that way. That meant that he could maximize his time spent at the Matsukawa household without being ragged on, constantly.

“Going back to Mattsun’s house for a smoochfest?” Oikawa implores, eyes wide and mischievous.

“Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi flicks the back of Oikawa’s head, coming up from behind him. “Quit making everyone’s business your business.”

“ _Rude,_ Iwa-chan,” screeches out their captain.

"Yeah, Tooru, shouldn't you be worried about your _own_ sex life?" Takahiro asks, blinking at Oikawa with widened eyes. 

"Don't say that Taka," Issei replies in a dry tone, glancing at their captain with a blank expression. "You know he's sensitive since he can't get any."

"Oh right," Takahiro drawls out, giving Oikawa a fake-apologetic look. "I forgot. We shouldn't rub what we have in the face of those less fortunate than us. Thanks for reminding me, babe, you make me a better person."

"I hate you two," Oikawa pouts. "Iwa-chan, yell at them for me."

"Sorry," Iwaizumi says, Takahiro and Issei's favorite ally in the Anti-Oikawa-Tooru campaign. "I can't yell at them for telling the truth..."

" _Iwa-chan!_ "

And so the four of them head to the bus stop, bickering and bantering and enjoying what was left of evenings like these (where the almost-summer heat hummed and the sun was on the cusp of setting, with post-practice muscle aches and the longevity of the scene could’ve been forever).

* * *

“They’re hopeless,” sighs out Takahiro, draped over Issei’s bed, head and arms dangling off the side, staring at the ceiling fan, whirling about.

“They are,” agrees Issei, lying next to him, running his hands through Takahiro’s short, strawberry-blonde hair. Takahiro could feel the callouses on his palm from too much blocking practice and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love the roughness of Issei’s touch on him.

“Think they’ll get together by the end of the year?”

“I don’t think Tooru could take it if they didn’t,” Issei snorts through his words and Takahiro flashes his boyfriend a toothy grin.

“When’s dinner?” he asks, eyes glinting with something rather lewd.

“Not for a while... why?” Issei tells him, even though he knows exactly what Takahiro is implying, just wanting to hear the other say it out loud.

“Oh,” hums Takahiro, rolling over to press his head onto Issei’s collarbone. He lifts his head up so his lips flutter against Issei's ear. “Just wondering if we had time to cram in a quicky.”

“I don’t know,” Issie says back, hands traveling down to squeeze Takahiro’s thigh. Takahiro bites down on his bottom lip, _hard_. “Better work fast if we wanna.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Takahiro mumbles against Issei’s lips then shuts up after that, allowing himself to relish in the taste of his boyfriend. This time, Issei tastes like the Pocari Sweat they drank after practice and the gum they chewed on the bus ride home, trying to see who could blow the biggest bubble (Issei won. _Jackass_ ). He kissed Takahiro like it was his job, soft lipped and open-mouthed.

Being with Issei was like coming home to where he always belonged. He knew he was supposed to be just a dumb teenager who didn’t know the first thing about love, he _knew that_ but something about being with Issei, not just sex (though that was pretty nice) but _being_ with Issei, made him feel like all 15 years of his life, before he started high school, was leading up to meeting Issei.

“Hey,” Issei murmurs against Takahiro’s legs, face pressed into Takahiro’s inner thigh. “Don’t ignore me while I’m fucking you, dickwad.” To emphasize his point, he blows an annoyed raspberry onto Takahiro’s legs.

Takahiro laughs, loudly at this, hands tangled in Issei’s curly black hair. “Sorry, shitstain, you can continue,” he tells Issei, gnawing at the inside of his cheek when Issei sucked on a particularly sensitive patch of skin.

“Love you a lot, Issei,” gasped out Takahiro. To his surprise, Issei stilled at this, sitting up to look at Takahiro. For a second he's confused, wondering is Issei's just being an annoying tease but it's something else. 

“I love you too, Hiro,” Issei tells him. Issei looked so earnest when he said that, gazing at Takahiro like he was the only thing that mattered. It is wonderfully painful, the way his face looks when he said those words. Takahiro feels warm blood rush to his face, covering himself with his hands, kicking his feet up at Issei above him.

“You’re too embarrassing, _shut the fuck up!_ ” Nevertheless, Takahiro rolls over and lets Issei get to work, pulling out the condoms and lube from his nightstand drawer (they’re running low, Takahiro notes. _It’s my turn to buy the next round_ ).

It’s nice. He wants to be like this forever; in his favorite bedroom with his favorite person just letting himself be loved by Issei. It’s a disgustingly good feeling and Takahiro, selfishly and foolishly, hopes he never stops feeling it, not as long as he lives.

* * *

Dinner is good like always; Matsukawa-san is an amazing cook and she always makes sure to make Takahiro’s favorites when he spends the night. Tonight it's oyakudon and chilled tofu and Takahiro practically inhales it to Matsukawa-san's pleasure. 

Issei likes to complain that his mom likes Takahiro too much than necessary and Takahiro likes to shoot back, cheekily, that he’s the son that Matsukawa-san never had (“What does that make me?” Issei would reply, raising an eyebrow. “A pet?”).

“You boys have a lot of homework?” Matsukawa-san inquires, elbows propping up her chin, smiling. She looks strikingly like Issei, full eyebrows and an unruly head of black hair. She usually wears it in a braid.

Issei looks over at Takahiro, expression unreadable to anyone who isn’t Takahiro, before replying, “A little.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll spend the night hard at work, you hear me?”

“Definitely,” Takahiro agrees, knowing full well they’ll do nothing of the sort. Issei snorts into his hand and Takahiro, under the table, pokes him in the side. Issei gets up, disposing their dishes into the sink and letting the water run over them. Takahiro follows him, passing him the dishrag so Issei can wipe his hands off. They’re so in sync, every movement like muscle memory.

“We’re gonna turn in for the night,” Issei tells his mom. “Have to get up early for practice tomorrow.”

“Thank you for the meal,” Takahiro adds, bowing his head a little. Matsukawa-san waves him off with a smile. 

“Go to sleep early,” Matsukawa-san tells them. She knows they aren’t going to listen (it’s pretty hard to miss their ugly laughing, ringing through the household, when they absolutely lose their mind over the most pointless YouTube videos at 3 in the morning) but she lets them go upstairs anyway, calling “Goodnight boys” after them.

“Ew,” Issei says when they get back to his room after brushing their teeth and taking a shower (they showered together but _totally_ just to conserve water, no other possible reason). He looks over at this bed.“Help me change the sheets.”

“Does it even matter at this point?” Takahiro implores, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. “Aren’t all your spare sheets stained by now, anyway?”

“Maybe so,” Issei hums, flopping down on the plush mattress leaning his back on the headboard. Takahiro grinned, easy and soft, as he sits down next to Issei. The sides of their bodies press together and Issei smelled of the sweet lavender laundry detergent Matsukawa-san always uses. Neither of them move despite how gross it is, sleeping on their sex-stained bedsheets; Issei’s bed is too warm and they’re far too worn out.

Gross, as it turns out, will be the choice they make tonight.

“Should we actually do homework?” Issei asks, wrapping his arm around Takahiro’s waist in the way that made the strawberry-blonde _melt_.

“Too much work,” Takahiro argues through a yawn, resting his head in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, kissing it as he did.

Issei just mumbles something in quiet agreement, reaching for his laptop to rest on each of their legs, pressed together.

“What?” Takahiro asks when he sees this, shifting around, making the laptop screen shake. “Too tired for round two?” He doesn’t think either of them have the stamina for another round but that’s alright, he’s perfectly content like this. Even so, he teases Issei nonetheless. “You turning into an old man on me already, Issei?”

“Mmm,” Issei’s words are incoherent, already settling in, opening up Netflix. “This old man needs to relax, Hiro, can’t waste all my energy on you. Have to conserve it in case of an emergency.”

Takahiro could feel his eyelids growing heavy as the minutes tick away but he forces himself to stay awake as long as possible. He knows (he _had_ to know) that graduation was creeping up on them no matter how much he tries to push it away or ignore it. Nights like these, just him and Issei tucked in bed, giggling over whatever dumb movie they decide to watch, are growing scarcer and scarcer by the day, fading into the future.

He thinks back to first year Issei, quiet and young, and part of him wishes he wasn’t so dumb back in first year. If he’d have known how much he’d grow to love Issei, how much he needed him, he’d have snatched that quiet fucker up the day they met. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel so helpless now, like he didn’t get to spend enough time just being young and in love.

“Why aren’t you watchin’?” Issei asks, voice thick and laced with sleepiness.

“Sorry,” apologizes Takahiro, squeezing their interlaced hands, tucked under Issei’s thick duvet. “Was thinking bout stuff.”

“Yeah?” Issei shuts the laptop screen, he wasn't paying attention, either (besides, they could practically recite The Bee Movie script by heart, they really didn’t need to watch it for the millionth time). Now that the sound from the movie isn’t filling the room, dully, in background noise, it’s silent. “What about?”

“Us,” Takahiro tells him.

Issei huffs out a breath of laughter. Takahiro loves the way his face looks when he laughs, eyebrows furrowing up then smoothening out, lips twisting up in a half-smile.“How cheesy.”

“Shut up,” Takahiro nudges Issei with his shoulder.

“What about us?” Issei inquires after a couple seconds of silence falls between them. It’s not uncomfortable silence, it never is, just a knowing silence. The kind where it isn’t really silence, at all, just a pause in the never-ending conversation the two of them maintain.

“Was thinkin’ bout when we met,” Takahiro whispers. “Remember how quiet you used to be? God, now I can’t ever get you to shut up.”

“Rich coming from you,” Issei shoots back, “I don’t think you’ve shut up once in your whole life.”

“Asshole.”

“Dickhead.”

“Cumstain.”

“Angel-face.”

“Sugar-plum.”

“Love-of-my-life.”

Another second of silence passes.

Then Issei speaks up, “I think I was only quiet cuz I liked you so much.”

“Yeah?” Takahiro asks. He knew the two of them had mutual feelings for each other for a painfully, stupidly long time before getting together, halfway through second year, but they’d never really talked about when and how it all started.

“At first I think I sort of admired you, how you were able to make friends with Hajime and Tooru so easily. Everyone liked you ‘cuz you were so easygoing and, for a while, I convinced myself what I felt was only because I wanted to be like you.” Issei’s eyes look upwards, at the ceiling, like he’s tracing back to feelings only he knew he had. “Then I think I realized I was always similar to you… it was just because I was really, _really_ gay.”

Takahiro smiles, hearing this, and felt his heart turn gooey and smushy in his chest.

“No,” he disagreed, “I’d like to think it was that stellar your mom joke I made that got you to fall in love with me.”

“Ah yes,” Issei replies, locking gaze with Takahiro. “It was definitely that. One your mom joke and you had me.”

“Well, you’re the only one for me, after all.”

Takahiro didn’t have anything else to add to that so he just kisses Issei to emphasize his point. Now he tastes like toothpaste, minty and cool, and the strawberry-flavored lip balm Tooru bought him after throwing a fit at how chapped Issei’s lips were (“No friend of _mine_ will have cracked lips, that’s for sure,” he had said, tossing it to Issei with flourish).

“I think,” Takahiro whispers, slightly breathless at the kiss, pressing their foreheads together when they break apart, “we gotta stay together. If we don’t, who else’ll duet Tooru’s TikToks and call him ugly at practice with you?”

“So what you’re saying is that I’m stuck with you?” Issei asks but he’s smiling, faintly, and Takahiro places a hand on Issei’s chest. He can feel the flurry of Issei’s heartbeat, slow and steady and wonderful. _It’s okay_ , he realizes, _if we don’t have a lot of time left. It’ll be okay._ He doesn’t care if he’s only 18 and has his whole in front of him, if he’s got Matsukawa Issei (if Matsukawa Issei _loves_ him) then that’ll be enough. No daunting future, no upcoming graduation can change that.

“You’re stuck with me,” he repeats.

“Could be worse,” Issei breathes out.

“Could be a lot worse,” Takahiro agrees. “Could be Tooru.”

“Yuck,” Issei sticks out his tongue in faux-disgust. “I’ll leave that mess to Hajime.” Then Issei yawns, thick and exhausted.

“Wanna go to sleep now?” Takahiro asks and Issei just nods.

“I love you, Taka,” mumbles out Issei as they crawl under his sheets, fully. He’s spooning Takahiro, strong hands pressed right by Takahiro’s naval as he holds him. Takahiro shudders when he feels Issei’s hot, sleepy breath against his own neck.

Issei falls asleep rather quickly but Takahiro doesn’t, just listens to Issei’s even, heavy breathing, on the cusp of turning into snores.

He’s excited to wake up, tomorrow, and do it all again because that’s what Matsukawa Issei does to him; make him yearn for a new day where he can hear that laugh again and play his favorite sport with his favorite people (his favorite _person_ ) and just enjoy the time he has left before they have to grow up.

Call him sentimental if you want but that's okay with Takahiro. He'll always be unabashedly stupid for Matsukawa Issei.

“I love you too, Issei,” he whispers and lets sleep overtake him.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u liked it!  
> come scream at me on tumblr: @tetskuroo


End file.
